Matters at Hand
by GrayArcadian
Summary: An extension of a scene in the 1st season episode "Code of Honor." The story is from Tasha's POV and has some D/T overtones.


_**Matters at Hand**_

 **Rating K (General audience). No triggers either as far as I know.**

 **Story is an extended scene from "Code of Honor," that, at least to me, makes the episode more bearable. Hopefully, it will for you too.**

 **Star Trek is currently "owned" by some collective made up of CBS and Viacom (Paramount). While they should get some respect in that general direction for this fact, I think about it as little as possible and encourage others to do the same.**

 **After 25+ years, I have my first fic. Thanks to all who have the same crazy love for the series as I do. Special love to my fellow D/T shippers who have cheerfully ignored the studio's insistence of a "meaningless one night stand," since 1987. Feel free to drop me a line.**

* * *

Pointless. Futile. Insane. Reckless and above all: stupid. A planet was dying and this? Tasha couldn't even tell you what any of "this" was. She'd been dropped into some kind of bad holo-novel, and even Deanna had started treating her like some kind of character in it.

Worst of all so far was the Turkana street rat emerging from the crevices of her mind and whispering outdated and useless suggestions at saving her own skin; suggestions the empath had picked up and questioned her about - and in front of the Captain no less.

Maybe she did understand something about codes of honor. Hers had felt undermined in that moment. And when Lutan managed to get the drop on her, and when he engulfed her in this mess by declaring her some kind of "first one." Troi was just doing her job and examining the motives of everyone around the situation at hand. Intellectually, she knew that. The not-so rational sides of her added the probing to an ever growing amount of focused anger driving her forward.

She didn't like that this was becoming personal to her, too. What it did though was make this farce understandable. On the colony, the world obliterated itself over and over as petty warlords ( _like Lutan_ , her mind reminded her) made and remade territory out of their own charisma and ego, shaping those like Yareena into their weapons. She hated that her mind had limited itself to their level, but the first rule of tactical survival was to think like your enemy. That's what they were now: enemies or obstacles until another way could be found to secure the vaccine because Lutan had played her, his wife, and the whole of the situation exceedingly well.

When she and her guard reached her "quarters," she was grateful for the guard's brief manipulation of the the lock. It gave her a precious breath in and out before confronting Troi and the Captain with the news. It was half a moment to place her anger and frustration in the back of her mind. The effort made her only barely register Data and Geordi's presences as she strode into the room.

"She won't budge," she announced without preamble. "She loves him, without reservation." Tasha found her eyes moving more towards Data than the Captain. She snapped them back to Captain Picard before adding, "And she thinks I love him too."

"Most interesting. Do you?"

 _Not you too, Data!_ she thought, feeling her control slip just slightly.

Would it come off as another of his innocent questions in front of the three people who knew them best? Did it even matter right now with a planet of sick colonists in the balance?

She was speaking before she even registered what she was saying. "Of course I don't, Data!" Tasha fumed, embarrassed and exasperated. "As Troi pointed out to me, I'm attracted to him but that is entirely different!"

Thankfully, Riker called Captain Picard, turning attention away from her and Data's question. Remarkably, she realized that, though this was subject to change, she was more tired of being asked about her "preferences" and focused on strategy than anything else in this given second for which she was thankful.

Working around Data since the _Tsiolkovsky_ had been close to torture. As much as she wished she couldn't say the feeling was mutual, (since he kept insisting on not having feelings), there was something about Data too. The incident didn't just change their once clockwork-like interaction. It changed _him_. There were little things, like the subtle examination she was silently getting now that were just _different_. For awhile, she tried to convince herself there was no logic to it. She was just projecting the sense onto Data from her own guilt, but - no. Tasha's instinct knew better, and instinct kept her alive.

Honestly, she admitted silently as she kept feeling her eyes wander back and forth from Data to anything else in the room, it changed her as well. (And saw his normally unshifting gaze look anywhere but her since asking that damn question...) She just wasn't the walking dictionary he was. The words to explain what she wanted him to understand were never there - and therein lie the torture.

She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard Riker report about a crowd of people and 3 guards headed their way.

Picard sealed her concentration with a sign-off to Will back on the ship."Thank you, Number One. Lieutenant," he asked, turning his full attention on her. "Do you still feel that you want to go through with this challenge? Do you judge your condition good?"

Tasha never wavered. "I judge it excellent, sir."

Hagon, Lutan's underboss, entered with an unreadable, stoic face. Behind him were two guards carrying some kind of bright red wood boxes. He gestured. "Your weapons, Lieutenant Yar. You may choose your size." He and his entourage did not stick around enough to watch her choose. Having done their minimum for an outworlder, they left quickly, leaving the Starfleet personnel to conduct themselves.

Fine. They could have it their way. She opened one of the boxes and was greeted with one of the most inelegant weapons she'd ever laid eyes on. It was some kind of gauntlet which covered the fist. In lieu of a hand, the weapon gave its wielder a 10 cm ball with long, thin metal spikes and a curved blade for a thumb. She reached for the wrist portion in order to pull it up and test its weight. Geordi stopped her mid-pull.

"Tasha, don't touch the spines," he warned as she gently wrenched the weapon from its case. "They're poisoned. If you're not careful, you could kill yourself."

"These I understand," she said absently. It felt like the first thing she had understood in a good while. Her reverie was snapped by a host of grunts and controlled calls outside. Tasha knew the sounds well. They were a fighter's way of intimidating opponents and to control both breathing and focus, and they were Yareen's sounds. She put down the gauntlet as she and the others headed for the window, but she already knew knew what she'd see there. Yareena was practicing. The poles and blocks she had seen being gathered in the courtyard were now a kind of asymmetrical arena festooned with poles to swing around, climb, or block an opponent's blow. Yareen swung from one to the next with a cry at each landing. An assistant of some kind lit a barrier around the square and tested its deadly laser with some kind of local wood.

Deanna looked back at her, clearly appalled. Instead of looking back at her friend, however, her focus went back to Data. For his part, he had been watching Yareena, but his amber eyes now slid over to her with obvious concern.

 _He can feel concerned, right?_

Tasha exhaled once and shifted her weight from her heels to the balls of her feet and back again.

"The challenge says the fight is to the death, sir," she reminded Picard. "If there's a way, we don't have much time to implement it."

Captain Picard grimaced. "There is. Since my presence is being watched closely, I will leave Mister Data to convey those details. The counselor, Mr. LaForge, and I shall be preparing for your entrance." Geordi shuffled his feet. Deanna looked even more uncomfortable than Geordi did.

Tasha nodded once. "For the vaccine then."

Picard nodded once to all of his officers before taking Geordi and Deanna with him leaving her alone with Data. Tasha stuffed down any reservations about the situation. "What does the Captain want done?"

If Data had needed to shuffle any hesitation to the back of his mind, he didn't show it. "Captain Picard has been reviewing the Ligonian's legal code. A marriage agreement can be dissolved only with death or mutual agreement."

"And Yareena doesn't agree. Terrific," she muttered.

"He believes you will be able to overcome Yareen's abilities in combat. The poison on your weapon has an alkaloid base. I have estimated it would prove lethal within 20.35 seconds." Tasha nodded and moved her hands to indicate he should continue as she headed over to the boxes in order to chose one. Data followed, still explaining. "When you are able to successfully poison her with a glancing blow, you are to shield her body. The transporter room and Dr. Crusher will be standing by in order to recover you and revive Yareena."

"So I need to exercise some caution about how I win," she noted, settling on the first weapon she examined.

"Yes. I am to discreetly leave when you exit this room."

Tasha nodded, trusting both Data and her Captain's plan as she placed the weapon back in the box while Data stood there.

She found a black headband secured to the lid of the box, took it out and pulled her short hair through it while Data stood there.

She straightened and stretched for a moment, clearing her mind. Data stood there.

Tasha squeezed her hands – open, shut, open. Data stood there.

The silence hung in the air, except for the sounds of Yareena practicing for the lethal challenge ahead while, now, they both just stood there.

Tasha closed the gap between them. _This needs to be now._ she thought grimly. The assurance she wore earlier for the others melted away. "Data -" She exhaled a long, slow breath, looking not at him, but back at the weapon on the table. "This isn't a good time, but -" Blue eyes closed tight as she continued.

"Don't talk; just listen. In case this doesn't go as planned, just...know that I'm sorry." Since he now lingered close enough, Tasha reached for his hand without looking; the first time she touched him since that night.

"I know. You can't be happy, or hurt, or feel betrayed. But that's who you are now." Her voice lowered and her thumb slowly circled the back of his hand. "I don't think that's how you'll stay. Every instinct I have says that." She paused lightly and squeezed his hand to underline the next point. "How you think of me, now and in that future, matters to me."

When she finally looked up, she found that Data's eyes were on their hands. He then snapped his eyes back to hers in silent confusion. "How you regard me," he admitted, "matters to me a great deal." His eyes moved back down her arm as his fingers curled around hers. "Thank you."

With a new-found warmth and a quick nod, she broke the hand-hold and stepped back. The fearless warrior Lieutenant Yar resurfaced once more. "You best get to the ship then. Everything here is under control."

Data turned and moved for the door, but Tasha could hear him stop briefly and turn back before exiting.


End file.
